


Diverse Upset

by rockholmes



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Autoerotic Asphyxiation, M/M, Masochism, Masturbation, Self-Harm, Sensory Deprivation, Vomiting, lots and lots of self-hatred
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-10 01:56:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5564551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rockholmes/pseuds/rockholmes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in which Oikawa deals with conflicting feelings regarding Kageyama, stomach problems, and a lot of self-hatred fueled hypersexuality.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. for the best

**Author's Note:**

> aka Oikawa learns that hey, maybe being nice to Kageyama might actually be a good idea or something.
> 
> and it only takes him 6,000 words to figure it out.
> 
> listen okay so I started writing this and I was like "idk this is a little dark for a volleyball manga is it too ooc" then I remembered Furudate is horror manga trash and honestly that motivated me to finish this. there are three other chapters and they're not going to be nearly as long as this one I just wanted buildup more than anything, and Oikawa Self Hatred.
> 
> tags will be edited and added to as the other three chapters come out.

Tooru Oikawa has always associated Tobio Kageyama with negative feelings.

It's not really something he'd planned. It just happened. They'd just both been in the wrong places at the wrong time. Both in the same middle school, both interested in volleyball, both shooting for the stars. They'd been destined rivals from the start, he reasons. Even ignoring all of the specific circumstances surrounding the details of the two's rocky relationship, that much had to have been inevitable.

It isn't like those details had been insignificant, though.

No, not at all. He thinks his feelings wouldn't nearly be so strong if it hadn't been for them.

The first time he experiences this is when he's substituted in a game for Tobio.

It's heartbreaking. Absolutely devastating, he thinks, to be replaced. It's especially bad, since it's by someone younger than him. Tobio had been a genius, someone naturally talented at volleyball, someone who'd consistently be good no matter if he put the extra effort in or not. And that had been the seed that planted a giant tree of resentment for the younger player.

Being on the sidelines when you want more than anything else to play is truly despairing. It's worse when you have full view of the person who was put in to replace you. Clearly, Tobio's better. That's the only reason he'd been put in. Tobio is just _better_.

Prior to that game, they hadn't even really interacted with each other. There had been no need. Tobio seemed fine on his own and Tooru had friends already. They were in the same club, on the same team, but they'd never really been close, or even remotely personal with each other. That event, however, had sparked a fire where nothing had even been present before.

It sparked _hatred_. It sparked _self-loathing_. Or, at least, the beginning of such.

That night, he'd flopped onto his bed, feeling defeated regardless of the actual outcome of the game. Because it didn't matter to him. It wasn't a victory he'd personally earned, so what was the point?

Worthless. Absolutely _worthless_ , he thinks to himself.

It's the first time he's felt so betrayed, so belittled. He buries his face in his hands and feels like he's about to cry or something when he's confronted with a play-by-play of the day's game. Of Tobio's every movements, of his masterful, _genius_ play style. He's always been able to remember details of games extremely well, but now, that ability feels like a curse. That calm and collected setter stands out more than anyone else. It's disgusting. It's irritating. It annoys Tooru beyond explanation.

Tooru shifts to his side, face still covered, and he realizes a bit of an issue.

There's some strange tightness in his pants, for some reason. He thinks, _really, now is not the time to be having this problem,_ but he's growing and a young teenager and he just can't stop it. There's nothing he can do about it, so he tries not to think about it too much. He's not even sure what brought this on, not sure why this would have just randomly happened.

He figures it's his body's way of telling him to relax, to get his mind off of things, no big deal at all. His body probably reacted his way because it wants him to just stop thinking about it already.

That's what he reasons, anyway.

Yet that doesn't seem to be the case.

Still, _still_ , he can't get his mind off of how useless he feels, that overwhelming jealousy and resentment and aggression seeping deep into his skin and making his eyes squeeze shut in frustration. His mind wanders to the perfect form of Tobio, to the maddening and ridiculous way he's able to drive the team to victory single-handedly, to just how much better he is and probably always will be.

Tooru's stomach churns and he gets the urge to throw up. He doesn't.

Instead, he reaches down and starts half-heartedly jerking himself off, clenching his teeth. He opens his eyes, but the image doesn't disappear, Tobio is still _there_ , the game replaying like a movie, showing even angles he hadn't been able to see at the time from the bench.

It just makes him angrier, makes him want to punch something, makes him want to lash out more than anything else. His fingers twitch at the thought, and then go to his neck, and his nails dig _down_ , scratching from the bottom of his chin to his chest, stretching the collar of his shirt. Repeating the action, he tries desperately to make himself bleed, to finally feel a cool liquid stretch upon his fingers, but it just doesn't _happen_. He figures his nails are just too dull, too blunt, and he instead goes to the arm belonging to his busy hand.

_Bluish-black hair is the only thing you even remember. Your concentration on him is pathetic, but you can't help it, you can't help it._

The strokes are faster now, hurting somewhat, his dick feeling dry and a small bit cold from exposure and the temperature of his room, but he can't say he feels the urge to stop even as his eyes start to water. Nails dig, then, into his arm and his movements slow, then furiously speed up as he slides his fingers up and down, scraping up skin.

_Ah, there he is, playing the game so much better than you, being so much better than you..._

After a while, there's a feeling of wetness and he looks down. Through the reddened, ripped skin is several smeared blots of blood, and he almost stops, but he can't, he's not done, he's not finished yet. It's not enough, he thinks, and he scratches up and down his shaft. He doesn't like it much, not really, but it doesn't seem to make him soft and only serves to work him up even more.

The vision of Tobio with blood and skin beneath his fingernails sends Tooru over the edge.

For a moment, he thinks he'll fall asleep, but wills himself awake.

He's a boy and he figures that masturbation is a normal thing for kids his age. It is, isn't it? But this kind of thing _probably_ isn't what normal people do, is it?

He closes his eyes, then opens them fully and sees the white streaks of semen on his leg, feels the burning on his dick and his neck, sees the blotchy skin of his arm, and flinches away, deciding instead to stare up at the ceiling. His face is wet with unshed tears, breath finally slowing down, though sounding like a faint, pale wheeze. He's a mess. He can't sleep like this.

Shame sits like a fire in his stomach, feeding into his desire to vomit all throughout the time he bathes. For some reason, despite the fact that his feelings haven't changed, he experiences a sudden want to apologize to Tobio. He's not really sure what for, since he wouldn't be willing or able to explain this situation, but the emotion is still there.

After he gets some rest, the entire ordeal feels like a dream, but the aching in his arm tells him it definitely had been real. He doesn't do anything like that again for some time, coming to the conclusion that it'd been a way of harming himself and that he wouldn't want anyone else to know about it. So, he thanks the schoolboard inwardly for long sleeved uniforms and wears longer elbow pads than usual.

If anyone notices anything strange about his entire right arm while in the changing room, no one says anything.

He does worry about how quiet everyone goes, though, and almost can feel eyes stabbing into his back whenever his shirt's off. Still, no one says anything.

At least his team has some decency.

* * *

Ever since Iwaizumi - wonderful, masterful _Iwa-chan_ \- snapped Tooru out of his moment of despair, every negative emotion toward Tobio had dulled significantly. They're still _there_ , lingering like an annoying bug, but they're not overbearing anymore. It's like they've become muffled over time, made almost insignificant because of his determination to better himself, his resolve to start working with others as a cohesive unit.

How sad, how _horrible_ , he thinks, that it all spawned from a moment of such weakness, from a moment where, if Iwaizumi hadn't been there, he'd actually have physically lashed out at Tobio. Even in the front of his mind where he can try desperately to justify the verbal abuse against the younger boy, to tell himself countless times that he's not just a _bully_ , there'd have been no way he'd be able to forgive himself had something like that actually happened. He'd never be able to face Tobio again, never be able to get over his self-hatred.

But that's essentially what had already happened. The expression on Tobio's face made it look like he'd _actually_ been hit. Though the action hadn't truly happened, the precedent was set from then on.

_"Sorry..."_

He'd said it once under his breath as he stared off into space and thought about what he'd just done, and then never again.

After entering high school, he starts to pride himself on his work more than anything, if only because he knows that's the one thing he'll always, no matter what, be able to beat Tobio at.

Sometimes, during his first two years of high school, he had been able to forget about Tobio Kageyama completely, even when playing volleyball. Because he needs to focus on his team, not some outside force that might destroy everything he's built up, everything he's helped build up.

For his first two years of high school, he moulds himself into what he's sure can help his teammates work to their greatest potential. Even Iwaizumi notices, gradually, because they've known each other for so long. He notices how Tooru works himself, not just for the sake of improving on his own, but for the sake of aiding everyone else in their journeys to improve.

And, yet...

Time goes on.

A pressure begins to build after his last big, official game in his second year. Because he knows what's coming. It's an impending, looming doom of sorts, though more annoying and exhausting than anything else. It's a feeling of, _oh, here we go._ A feeling that everything he's worked to make will be struck through, shot down, completely decimated and he'll have absolutely no chance to recover from it, even if he wants to.

The second year ends, his third year begins, and the feeling only gets worse. He knows why.

It's his last year in high school when he finally sees first year Tobio Kageyama.

It's...weird.

Because, for some reason, in middle school, you don't feel too far away from each other in terms of age. Everyone feels like they're pretty much the same, really, and it doesn't make as much of a difference on a sports team whether you're in one year or the next. High school, though? There's a _huge_ difference between a first year and a third year. They feel like they're _decades_ apart.

Tooru has long since grown into a more pointed chin, more adult features, broader shoulders than before. Tobio, though, barely looks older than the last time they'd seen each other. His cheeks retain a level of puff, his body still lanky. It's _weird_. Beyond weird.

Almost, he thinks, he can almost create the image of a proud yet competitive upperclassman. He nearly successfully does it to the shrimp, but Tobio already knows what kind of person he is, already knows who and what he really can be. He's not impressed, nor is he convinced of anything new. It pisses Tooru off more than he'd ever care to admit or show.

The practice match between them doesn't really count at all and both teams know it. If he were completely honest, one driving force behind him staying out of the first part of the game was so that it would drive home the point that the game really _didn't_ count. He thinks he got that across.

Still, he knew there had to be an actual match between them eventually. And, of course, there was.

Beating Karasuno once gives him a ray of hope.

He knows it's not something that will last, knows they'll end up facing each other again later, but it just feels so _good_ at the time. Genuinely good. He's happy and his team is happy and everyone he cares about is just so _happy_. It's all he could have ever asked for. Iwaizumi in particular is amazing to look at with how excited he is, the pride of the ace showing through more than ever before.

It's the only reason his hope isn't snuffed out the moment his team loses to Karasuno.

They've lost before and it's hurt just as much, sometimes worse, but the thing with volleyball is that there's always a new way to lose.

There's always a new way to hate yourself for letting that last point get scored by the other team.

But Tooru's learned time and time again that as the captain, this isn't when he can express grief. He needs to be there for the rest of his team, to help them get back on their feet and stay steady. This is the time to put his talent to use the most. He can't think about himself right now. At least, not in the open.

Confronting Ushijima makes him feel better, if only a little bit.

He can feign some sense of vicarious pride through Tobio's actions, since everyone sees the two as _kouhai_ and _senpai_ , so it's easy to inadvertantly threaten Shiratorizawa's captain with how strong Karasuno's gotten. It's a lie, completely false, because he doesn't really feel pride whenever Tobio helps score a point or makes a smart move. It's nearly entirely annoyance and exasperation. But he can pretend.

And he can certainly continue fighting. There's no chance that he'd give up just because Ushijima tells him he'd made the wrong decision, or because he lost to Tobio. That's not the type of person he is.

That's not the type of person he's ever been.

* * *

Honestly, he doesn't plan on going to see the game between Shiratorizawa and Karasuno, at first.

He doesn't! It's not a lie when he says he won't be happy with whoever wins or loses. He doesn't like either of them, and he says so aloud without hesitation.

Even he inwardly cringes at just how childish he's being, tries to scream at himself to stop, to just walk away, to leave it alone and never, ever return, but he can't help it. There's no way he can help it. He just has so much anger, so many insecurities bottled up inside of him that he can't just keep pushing down and pushing down because it's already full, there's no more damn room, he's got nowhere to put all of it.

And so here it is, out in the open, floating in the air and turning into the deep tension and animosity radiating off of him.

Sitting in the stands, glasses propped up on his nose, he can't say with any amount of certainty that he's rooting for either of them, exactly. But he's thought about this logically, and he thinks, well. His team has already beaten Karasuno once, so if Karasuno were to beat Shiratorizawa, he'd feel at least some sense of accomplishment, in a way.

It helps that his threat from earlier would sound kind of stupid if Shiratorizawa were to win here.

So, he's not exactly _rooting_ for Karasuno, but he'd be marginally _less_ pissed off if they were to win, all things considered.

And it hadn't even really seemed possible, just sounded like the best case scenario, but the fifth set finally comes to a close after what feels like an eternity, both teams looking like they're about to pass out. Even the people cheering on the sidelines look exhausted, having been on edge for much longer than most are used to, the game taking everything out of them all.

The score becomes clear.

Karasuno won.

The entire stadium abruptly explodes into screams and cheers and chanting. Even some rooting for Shiratorizawa are cheering, because no one's beaten them like this before, no underdog team has gotten this far. Everyone, even those completely unrelated to Karasuno, are just so _proud_ that the unpredictable outlasted the steel coated aggression of a powerhouse school.

It's all so overwhelming for Tooru. At first he's not sure what to feel, not sure how he's feeling, and he turns to his side and -

Iwaizumi's staring at him with an almost blank face, eyebrows upturned in surprise, or amusement, or something. "You're smiling."

"What, I - "

And just like that, he's not. The smile he hadn't even realized was on his face is gone in an instant and Tooru narrows his eyes, looking down to the court.

He...really _was_ smiling. Is he happy? He feels happy, in a way, sort of. That's mostly because Ushijima's finally been beaten, that unbreakable wall has been smashed down into a million pieces, and it had been by a team everyone considered the underdogs.

He clarifies after they leave the stadium, and it sounds just as desperate out loud as it had in his head.

"You know, I only smiled because I liked seeing Shiratorizawa finally destroyed. Should I be happy for Karasuno? I'm not. I already said I wouldn't be," and that's not really true, but it's not entirely false, either.

On one hand, he's glad to see _Ushiwaka_ get crushed into the ground, but on the other, it's by that same damn force, that darkness, that void that overcame his own team beforehand. But that pride he'd attempted to fake earlier no longer feels so fake. It's like he's emotionally sharing in their accomplishment, like seeing a team such as Shiratorizawa get beaten is enough to make him feel like he's won, even if he hadn't been the one to do it.

Iwaizumi just snorts, face contorting into irritation, and calls him some name that Tooru doesn't even really register before walking out.

* * *

He's thankful that Iwaizumi had left the building before him, because he'd promptly put an order in for a copy of the recorded game.

He knew he'd get a disapproving look from his ace otherwise.

While watching the game, he'd been in the back row, hunched over, hiding somewhat. He hadn't wanted anyone to see him, especially from Karasuno, though the viewpoint hindered his ability to follow everything on the court and made it absolutely impossible for him to hear anything. Still, he thought that he'd gotten a decent enough grasp of the events during each set.

He'd been wrong.

Well, not exactly _wrong_. He understood the _basics_ of what had happened, but witnessing the playback put things into a new light. Cameras were much closer, picking up the speech of both teams, picking up the important points up close.

He misses the first five or so minutes of the game the first time it plays on television, but the recording was to arrive in a few days, so he figures he can go back at any point.

That one glasses guy, Tsukishima, had the skin on his hand almost shredded. Though Tooru's dealt with that sort of thing before, had to bandage up his own fingers countless times in the past, and isn't _too_ surprised at the blond's focused, determined expression. It looks a lot worse than it actually is. It must hurt, and Tooru is almost shocked that there's no outward sign of pain. He decides that's why he hadn't been able to fully tell that the first year had even been injured before.

Up close, he can tell that those eyes don't care about the dripping blood. They're only focused on one thing.

Playing. Winning.

His throat goes dry and he digs his nails into his side. Swallowing tentatively, he tries to keep the shifting in his abdomen at a minimum.

The red on the first year's hand looks tantalizing, in a way, but he doesn't think about that.

Tooru will give Karasuno some credit. They are funny, at least. Watching them interact with each other is something like watching a sitcom. He finds himself letting out huffs of laughter every time one of them overreacts and when the others begin to overreact as well, and he's grateful for it, in a way, because it makes watching the video more entertaining than painful. For the most part.

Tobio and the shrimp are just absolutely _unbearable_ to watch. They're like if you mixed trust and unfailing companionship and dual passion for volleyball with the absolute _worst_ personality dynamic ever. They almost act like one player on the court. Their desires to score blend into each other, creating an eager, bullheaded force. That only really applies when they're not _speaking_ to each other, though. When they _are_...

_"You better watch out for the back of your head."_

Of course. Their animosity toward each other shines brightly, though it doesn't quite seem volitile enough to be a genuine hindrance. _Like an old married couple,_ he thinks jokingly, and wonders why that thought leaves such a bad taste in his mouth.

_"That toss was too high, right? I'll fix it next time."_

He inwardly groans, yet he's surprised to find that the feeling of dread he'd expected to have isn't quite so strong, and for some reason, a strange sense of pride is mixed in with it. Because Tooru knows he's at least partially responsible for this change, for this development in his small underclassman. Maybe, he thinks, just maybe that's part of becoming an adult, or something.

The rest of the game doesn't give him much more than what he'd already been able to see, and he retires for bed that night.

He'd just assumed the first five minutes of the game wouldn't make a huge difference, wouldn't be important enough to warrant a rewatch, but he does it anyway just for the sake of curiosity. Tooru's always rewatched games, anyway, especially games of those he's lost against. And in that game are _two_ of such teams, so when the package with the recording arrives, he works on homework for around an hour before going to his television and starting up the video.

And for the most part, he's right. The beginning of the game is a phase of both teams getting used to each other's play styles and learning exactly how a powerhouse does against a team of limitless possibilities.

Karasuno starts off weak and frantic. He'd seen the end of that in his first watch, but it's even worse in the very beginning, and for good reason. Everyone is rightfully nervous to be going up against Shiratorizawa, against Ushijima.

_Almost_ everyone.

The little shrimp is perfectly fine. Hinata's face is more determined than anything else, even moreso now than Tooru had ever seen before. It's intimidating up close.

It seems that everyone notices how Tobio is perfectly collected. He's not worked up and, though he's likely anxious, it doesn't show. Every movement is methodical, planned out and with purpose, just like always. And even his teammates recognize this, commenting through the noise of the crowd and the various sounds on the court about just how clear his mind is and - _hold on._

Tooru freezes.

He _can't_ have heard that right.

An eyebrow is raised and he doesn't quite register what he'd thought exited his underclassman's lips. He shakes his head, reaches over, and promptly rewinds the video a few seconds, and listens closely.

_"You're pretty calm, even though we're up against Shiratorizawa!"_

_"There's no one more frightening to go up against than Oikawa-san."_

_Oh,_ he thinks. _Oh._

Tooru's heart and head are pounding before he even notices it. _When did that happen?_ His vision starts to shake a bit and he's not paying attention to the video anymore, he realizes. Suddenly he thinks back to the night in middle school, just after he'd been switched out for Tobio, how he'd touched himself and scratched himself until he bled and how sharp his emotions had been, cutting into him just like how he'd been doing to himself.

He thinks back to that night _a lot_ more than he'd like to, but now, it's ridiculously vivid.

His head's shaking, for some reason, and he turns off the television. The lack of noise puts him on edge, makes him think with clarity and he lets out a loud huff, closing his eyes, putting both his hands at the sides of his head. Fingers tighten around his short hair and they pull hard, causing his head to throb even more.

_Afraid of you._

One hand lets go and he shifts his sitting position until his legs are folded beneath him and he's able to shove it down his pants to take care of a different throbbing. The fingers of one hand pull at his hair, trying desperately to tear it out, and scratch at his head while his other squeezes his cock to the point where it hurts more than feels good, but he doesn't care, because this is what he _deserves_.

Tears run down his face before he feels them, mind focused entirely on the pain. He moves his head from side to side and pulls harder, feels some strands of hair rip out, and he begins hitting his head against the hand repeatedly.

His eyes are shut throughout the whole ordeal, grunts leaving through gritted teeth all the while, breath erratic as he starts to realize he's _hyperventilating_ , but he doesn't stop pumping at himself because he needs this, he's needed his for a while now, he _needs_ to do this, even if it _kills_ him.

_Holy shit,_ has he _needed_ this.

In his mind, he sees Tobio standing over him, a _tower_ compared to his kneeling self, and he feels the cum spill into his hand and against the fabric at a face that shows none of the usual apprehension and anxiety always present in the _real_ Tobio.

Both hands are immediately out of his pants and away from his head, as if they'd just touched something scorching, and he stands, hesitating for a moment at the disgusting feeling of his shorts. Yet he bears with it, stumbling out of his room with a massive headache and seemingly every single part of him in dull pain. Somehow, his legs carry him all the way to the end of the hall and into the bathroom and he shuts and locks the door behind him.

His knees give out next to the toilet and this time, he really _does_ throw up. It's bitter and gross, just like himself.

The few minutes after are a blur as he bathes himself and brushes his teeth, washing away all physical signs of disgust, but still retaining all the mental ones.

After that, he slips into bed and resolves not to go to school the next day, though only because he knows there won't be any volleyball practice scheduled for the team. It's not shame that he feels, not exactly, though that is a part of it. More than anything else, he feels an overwhelming sense of self-hatred, of absolute loathing for who he is and what he's done.

It's a good thing that he doesn't go, because he ends up staying in his bed all day, feigning sick.

Yet it doesn't feel particularly fake, since he really _does_ feel sick. The headache doesn't go away, only becomes easier to ignore, and his body feels exhausted despite having not exerted any energy. He knows he wouldn't be able to face anyone the way he is now, emotionally and physically drained as he is. People would notice. People would ask questions. He wouldn't have answers.

His cell phone rings and he jumps, eyes widening, and he instinctively reaches for it.

It's not everyday that he'd actually flinch at seeing Iwaizumi's name pop up as the caller ID. In fact, he's usually _happy_ whenever his best friend calls. But not now, not when he's pretty much the only person who can actually tell when Tooru's faking being okay or being not okay. He almost doesn't pick up, but he knows that'd just piss Iwaizumi off even more, so his finger reluctantly swipes to answer.

"Iwa-chan!"

Damn, he hasn't spoken all day, his voice cracks in a pathetic way. But he keeps going, trying to act as upbeat as normal. "You're calling me! Aw...are you worried about me?"

He hears a _tch_ on the other end and can almost see Iwaizumi's eyebrows furrow in frustration. "You weren't in school all day. I heard you were sick, and I thought that was just a stupid excuse to practice harder on your own, but I checked, and you weren't in the gym after school practicing by yourself, either. Are you _actually_ sick?"

Tooru almost _cries_ , legitimately, at the genuinely worried tone of his friend. Maybe that's just because of how emotionally unstable he's feeling at the moment, though. That's definitely it. He's glad there's the lingering suspicion that he's actually, really sick, because he otherwise would have to go to great lengths convincing Iwaizumi of what already is at least partially true.

In response, he laughs a broken, crooked laugh. It's audible how Iwaizumi cringes. "It's only a cold. I'll get over it soon. No need to worry about little old me!"

"Fine." There's a huff on the other end. "Fine, then. I'd better see you tomorrow, Oikawa."

He only hums in reply, earning a concerned and irritated _goodbye_ from the other teen, and then the line goes quiet.

One arm stretches to cover his eyes and he lets out a long sigh. It's not that he's managed to fool his best friend, not really, since Iwaizumi obviously doesn't buy that it's _just_ a cold and will probably interrogate him later on it, but it's still an acheivement of sorts that the ace is subsided, for now.

It's the afternoon, now, and he's lost count of how many times he's gone back to jacking off, just because he has nothing better to do and because, while the feelings of before aren't nearly as strong, they're still lingering. Before, he'd been able to chalk it up to him being a teenager, but damnit, he's becoming an adult. Isn't this sort of thing a little bit concerning, now?

Especially when his person of focus happens to be two years younger than him. That wouldn't normally be an issue, but in high school, it certainly feels like it's an issue. More than that, it's someone he'd sworn he hated, or at least held more animosity for than not, and now, he's not so sure how he feels.

His eyes shift over to the window, light shining on his skin.

All Tooru's done that day is hate himself and masturbate while hating himself.

He seriously needs to get out.

* * *

Honestly, he's not sure why he hadn't thought of getting some stomach medicine before. He's not sure if it's really just because of how he feels mentally or if it's because he's actually sick, but he shouldn't take any chances.

The nearest convenience store is only a five minute trek, but he actually wants to go for a long walk, so he decides to visit one he'd seen earlier on the other side of town. Mainly, it's for the reason that he might be able to walk off the sickness, but he also just wants some time to think for himself without dealing with the fatigue that comes from lying in bed all day.

He's feeling a little bit better when he reaches the store, but it's not by much. His nausea isn't any better and his head is still spinning a bit in a groggy heat.

The aisles seem almost endless. Is this _really_ just a convenience store? He thinks, maybe, that he's just deluding himself into thinking it's bigger than it actually is, but he doesn't want to stay here too long, and he's not sure where he'd even be able to find what he's looking for, not to mention the fact that his headache is coming back, he's starting to _really_ regret coming all the way here.

Shaking his head, he walks a few steps into the first aisle and tries to sort out his thoughts, think about where the pharmacy area might be, and -

"Oikawa-san?"

He jumps, eyes going wide.

_Oh_ , he thinks, today really will _not_ be kind to him, will it?

Putting on his best cheerful-yet-dejected face, Tooru spins around a forces a grin, not even trying to make it look genuine. "Tobio-chan," he starts in a sing-song voice. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"Huh?" the face of his underclassman is suspicious and confused. "This store isn't even on your side of town, right? I should be more surprised to see you."

Immediately, he drops the smile and sighs, then closes his eyes momentarily. He really can't deal with this right now. Sure, in the back of his mind, he knew there was a possibility that he'd see someone from Karasuno here, and he even considered the idea of seeing Tobio, but it hadn't really been a high enough chance for him to refrain from going. Seriously, he isn't prepared for dealing with this.

Not only that, but he's still both physically and emotionally exhausted, and his mind is like a flat, hazy line. He doesn't have the energy for this exchange.

Tobio hums in thought, narrowing his eyes. "Are you looking for something here, Oikawa-san? I...know this place pretty well, but it can be hard to tell where to go."

Finally, Tooru opens his eyes. He wants to say no, wants to reject his help so badly, but he's never been here before and he actually has no idea where anything is. He almost regrets not just going to the convenience store next to his house, but he'd really needed the walk. Thinking, _well, what the hell_ , he replies. "Nausea medicine. I need nausea medicine."

The look on his little underclassman's face makes him turn away. It's even more confusion, even more surprise, mixed with a level of concern he can't stomach seeing right now. After a few moments, Tobio nods, likely debated about whether to press the issue. "I see," he says, "They're over here."

It's annoying that he wouldn't just point to the aisle and leave it at that, Tooru thinks for a moment, before Tobio starts speaking again, pointing to a bottle with a green label. "Ah...this brand is best, I think. It's fast acting. The others take too long to work, and by that time, whatever sickness you might have would probably have worn off," _I doubt that_ , he laughs inwardly in response, but doesn't interrupt, "and it's cheaper than a lot of the others, too."

Shrugging, Tooru takes one off the shelf and eyes the other setter, then lets out a short breath. "Thanks," he says, then quickly moves to the checkout counter.

His legs carry him out the door a lot faster than he thinks is necessary and he looks straight ahead, speedwalking, not wanting to accidentally see Tobio in his peripheral vision or something. He's halfway home before he slows down and allows himself to think.

For some reason, his heart had started pounding before, and though it's slowed down, he's still not completely calm.

He's feeling a bit better than before, though he can't pinpoint why, exactly.

Once he's home, he heads straight for his room and collapses onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. His mind is a bit clearer, now, and he's actually getting back to being normal again. Or, as normal as he usually is. Now, his stomachache has subsided considerably, and the phantom weight in the bottom of his abdomen has lifted, but he can't tell _why_. He should be feeling worse, he reasons, after seeing Tobio face-to-face, but he doesn't. It's the opposite.

He thinks for a moment, then comes to a realization.

Almost always, there's wounded pride mixed with that familiar self-loathing whenever he interacts with Tobio. Thinking back on it now, though, the only emotions he'd had from that encounter were gratitude and a casual feeling of fondness. He hadn't said anything cutting or rude, he thinks as he reflects on the few sentences they'd said to each other, mostly due to not being mentally all there, but it feels... _good_ , nonetheless. It feels nice to be nice, even to him.

Even to _him_.

Other than the regular tension, there'd been no hostility between them. That had been a completely normal encounter.

He thinks that maybe, just maybe, he should try that again.


	2. of daydreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was a pain to write and it'll probably be a pain to read because of that. I want to get to writing the next one already because like. stuff actually happens there.
> 
> honestly this one was boring to write because it's just basically The One Where Oikawa and Kageyama Officially Become Friends which like is cool I guess but ehhhhh. I guess you could also call this The One Where Iwaizumi Puts Up With A Lot Of Shit, but, well, that's always.
> 
> tags added: auto-erotic asphyxiation, sensory deprivation, masochism

Some time passes after Tooru's little exchange with Tobio and he finds the school year coming to a rapid close. It's only a few months until he graduates, he realizes, and he's started anticipating what his college volleyball team will be like and how he'll treat them, what kind of temperaments they'll all have and how to deal with them simultaneously.

It's fun and it keeps his mind occupied.

Studying for finals and planning for after high school take up most of his time, leaving him barely any for himself or for his personal life.

Tooru doesn't see Tobio very often.

And why _would_ he? He's busy. They go to different schools and they're in different years. Not to mention that both schools are, all things considered, fairly far apart. It's natural that they wouldn't exactly meet up regularly.

But now, it seems like any and every time he goes to the other side of town, he sees Tobio, either by briefly passing each other or by eating at the same restaurant or shopping at the same store. He doesn't even remember the last time he'd said something exceptionally rude to Tobio, or the last time he'd blatantly provoked him. Something about this everlasting fatigue is just throwing his verbal game off.

It makes their encounters easier to bear, though.

They see each other twice a week, more or less, and it's something he's started to...not exactly look forward to, but to expect.

He would almost think his underclassman is doing it on purpose, were _he_ not purposefully traveling long distances for no reason. It's like he _wants_ to see the subject of so many of his current conflicting feelings, or something.

In a way, it's like their relationship has gone back to square one, back where they'd been acquaintances, though they talk to each other more than friendly strangers might. Anytime he plans to go out, he considers how inconvenient it might be to take a longer walk than normal and, at this point, thinks of what he'll say when he sees Tobio.

Maybe the underclassman just goes out a lot, he considers. It's almost definitely Tooru who's the weird one here.

And yet, he doesn't stop going.

Sometimes, he finds himself purposefully not getting certain things on his shopping lists so that he'll have to come back later. Other times, he tries to justify eating so far away from his home by saying he should "burn off the calories," as if he doesn't do that at practice, anyway. Tobio hasn't questioned it at all, or, at least, he hasn't _yet_. Perhaps he's just trying to find the correct way to bring it up.

Or maybe he's too _scared_ to bring it up, or something. But..that thought is kind of laughable and unlikely.

One day, he decides to ask.

"Tobio-chan," he says one day casually after seeing the familier bluish-black haired boy walk over. By now, he has a fairly good idea of how to navigate the store, having visited more than a few times, and he mostly goes here for a rather valid reason. The store nearer to his house doesn't sell the kind of nausea relief medicine that he uses. "You come here pretty often. What do you need so much of?"

Immediately, he silently berates himself. Damnit, wait, that's the first time he's actually mentioned anything about how strangely coincidental their meetings are. In fact, that's the first time either of them has said anything about it. Tobio's face scrunches up and he frantically waves an index finger around.

The extreme reaction is startling, but not unexpected. " _You're_ the one who comes here weirdly often!" _I didn't say weirdly_ , Tooru thinks, but he simply stares in exasperation. "I have to buy my own food. My parents are out of town for the month."

 _Huh, well,_ is what the older of the two thinks. _Turns out there actually is an explanation._

"I see," he responds passively, trying his best to calm the situation down. "Only wondering. No need to get defensive. And if you're thinking I have no reason to be here, you're wrong. This is the only place I can get this kind of medicine."

Some sort of emotion crosses Tobio's face then, something like surprise, as if he's actually shocked that there's a legitimate reason for the other to be there. But his expression has relaxed significantly and before he can respond, Tooru begins to ask about the scheduling for next year's planned volleyball games, specifically about which ones Karasuno will be playing in.

It keeps them both distracted long enough to forget about the tension.

* * *

Confusion washes over Tooru as his eyes snap open.

He could have sworn he'd already gone back home, already fell into bed for a nap, but here he is, still at the store with a bottle in his hand. Light fills his eyes and there's a strange haziness around him, one even worse and even more intense than how it's felt recently.

Desperately, he tries to clear his mind, to figure out exactly what's happening. Then, there's a hand on the side of his stomach, and he jumps a bit before turning his head back and seeing a familiar face.

He's not sure why, but he's not surprised to see Tobio there.

Though, what _is_ surprising is just how close the two are in proximity. Tobio is pressed up against his back, holding him in place. The chatter of the store is loud, but he can't seem to spot anyone walking by, no one noticing whatever strange thing is happening. He opens his mouth to question Tobio, but no words come out, and he realizes faintly that the weight of the other is overwhelming and suffocating.

And he's wondering exactly _where_ his will to get away is.

 _Excuse me, what is happening,_ is the first thing that pops into his head, then a million other things do, and he's frozen in a state of panicked alarm before the situation sets in and he starts understanding what's going on, even a little bit. There's movement behind him, almost mechanical, and it's Tobio rubbing himself forward, and Tooru swallows nervously, feeling himself get worked up.

He turns his head, trying to see what kind of expression the other teen might have.

Fingers are then outstretched against his eyes, blocking his vision entirely, twisting his head forward. The hand at his side slides up, rubbing at his chest and pulling at his shirt, then it rests on his neck, and he's suddenly being _choked_. It's a new feeling, not one he's used to at all, not one he's ever tried before, but it's something he's thought about in the past. He'd never expected _this_ to be the way it'd finally happen.

It's not painful, exactly, and his airway isn't being restricted, but he begins to feel lightheaded.

Tobio's breath is hot and heavy on his skin, brushing against the back of his neck and shoulder.

At any moment, he's sure he could get away, he could force Tobio off of him if he wanted to, but he doesn't. He's held in place, unable to see, unable to speak, and he feels himself begin to drool as his open mouth lets out audible, heavy huffs. He can feel how excited he's getting, how quickly overwhelmed he's becoming, and it's happening _too fast,_ he tries yelling out in his head.

_Too fast, too much, too -_

* * *

A feeling of horror and embarrassment almost immediately sets in as Tooru is brought back to reality, chin propped up on the back of his hand.

That's right. He's in _class_ right now.

As he tries to covertly wake himself up, the lecture begins to fill his ears again and he shakes his heavy head. He must have fallen asleep, or something, he rationalizes. It must be because the teacher is too boring. It _is_ math, after all. After moving around a bit, trying his best not to make any noise and attract attention, he realizes that he's got a bit of a problem.

He's hard. _Ridiculously_ so.

From the seat next to him, Iwaizumi takes on a puzzled look, studying him carefully.

Then, the bell rings.

Frantically searching for an answer before his ace asks anything, Tooru laughs. It's a way of stalling for time. He _can't_ really think of a logical explanation for why he'd just suddenly sleep in class. Sure, he's been much more fatigued than normal lately, but his amount of sleep at night hasn't decreased or anything. In fact, it's actually the opposite. His current most occupied space in his house is now his bed.

So, _why,_ then?

"Ah," he smiles, willing his face not to turn red at the uncomfortable feeling in his pants. "I must have fallen asleep, or something."

Iwaizumi's face shifts in concern. "Sleeping? You weren't sleeping, you were just spacing out. Unless you can sleep with your eyes open, suddenly."

_Spacing out._

Was that _it?_ It hadn't even felt like he'd been awake at all.

"But, you looked a bit weird," the ace mentions, looking at him strangely. "Like you were in pain or something."

Tooru smiles to hide his increasing anxiety. He'd really daydreamed all of that, he'd _really_ had a mid-day fantasy about Tobio choking him, and where he should be feeling horror and discomfort, there's just anticipation and arousal and gross fascination. _Isn't that weird?_ But considering all he's been doing recently, he can't quite say it's beyond what would be considered normal for him.

That thought kind of disturbs him, but well, it isn't like anyone _else_ knows about it.

He searches his mind quickly. "I'm still a bit sick, is all. Nothing to be worried about, Iwa-chan."

There's an unimpressed and puzzled expression that passes over Iwaizumi's face, but he doesn't press the issue, thank _God_. He's muttering something to himself as he walks off, likely to get food and sit at their usual table, but for once, Tooru doesn't follow.

It feels wrong hiding anything from his best friend. They've known each other for some time, been childhood friends, and they've rarely ever kept secrets from each other. Even when either has tried to in the past, the other can usually tell when something's up, and secrets don't stay secret for very long. But this. This can't be revealed to Iwaizumi. It's out of the question.

He reasons that it's just _not_ something you're supposed to talk to a friend about. What if he sees Tooru differently? What if he _stops being friends with him?_ It's just not a risk he's willing to take. Ever.

And he definitely needs to take care of _this_ problem before the free period ends.

So, Tooru picks up his math book and does his best to hide himself as he walks out of the classroom.

He's grateful that he's at lunch now, since he's sure he couldn't get to his next class like this. He passes by the boy's restroom in hesitation, knowing there's likely someone in there, knowing he wouldn't be able to get rid of his problem in one of the stalls without being heard. So, he directs his legs to the empty gym. Once he's there, he promptly rushes into the storage closet.

After shutting the door, he leans against it and slides down to the floor, letting out a breath of relief.

Then, one hand is on his pressing at the sides of his throat and the other is pushing uncomfortably against the fabric covering his dick. He's only got around twenty minutes, and he figures that he should have more than enough time to get this over with and to get himself cleaned up. His fingers squeeze deeply into the skin, leaving a dull ache.

His eyes close, imagining the small hand of his underclassman blinding him again, and he has to pull his hand off to keep himself from making a mess of his pants.

He undoes his uniform and takes his cock out, hissing at the coldness.

There's something like an alarm going off in the back of his mind, then. Something tells him to stop, tells him that there's something wrong, and he doesn't listen, because he doesn't want to stop. He's just got to finish. He's got to get this over with. He just _has_ to.

But then, there's a rumble behind him, something like a person trying to open the door, but it's being blocked by his body. The door is pushed lightly, then stopped, and then banging on the door that stops his breathing and stops his movement. The vibration of the door being hit reverberates through him. He clears his throat, knowing he won't be able to get out of this if he just stays silent, and loudly says, "What?"

And he's shaken both physically and mentally by the piercing voice that says, "Oikawa! I was looking for you and I thought you'd be in here. What are you doing in there?"

It's Iwaizumi. Of course it is. Of course he'd go looking for him when he doesn't appear at lunch for the first time, and of course he'd look in the gym first. Tooru's head starts to hurt and he tries hard to come up with some reason, some plausible story that could explain why exactly he's in the storage room of their gym of all places, at lunch of all times.

"I have to reorganize the equipment in here," he states, going off of something that'd sound like something he'd actually do, "but I wanted more time after school to practice, so I'm doing it now. Y - you should be eating your lunch, Iwa-chan!"

He lets out a forced laugh at the end. _Shit, that was horrible._ No one with a brain would _ever_ fall for that.

There's the sound of a the handle being gently turned and for a moment, Tooru panics, stomach dropping, but the movement disappears, like it'd changed its mind.

"Fine," Iwaizumi says eventually. "Alright, fine. I'll see you next class. But I want to talk to you after school."

Then, loud footsteps gradually become softer, and Tooru hears the faint sliding of the gym door.

He hadn't convinced Iwaizumi at all.

But for the moment, at least, he's free. After school, he's sure he'll be interrogated, he's sure that his best friend will figure out that there's something wrong with him, and he'll just have to come up with another plausible lie or evade the confrontation somehow. He doesn't like to hide the truth so desperately, but he doesn't have much of a choice in this situation.

Relief finally washes over him and his arms relax at his sides. He closes his eyes for a moment, then opens them and looks down. He hadn't gotten to finish, and he doesn't want to, since he's totally soft now. The panic must have gotten to him.

And, bless Iwaizumi's soul, but he's just _not_ the type of person Tooru can talk to before getting himself off.

Standing up and trying his best to make himself look as neat as possible, he opens the door and heads for his next class.

* * *

It had been the first time Tooru didn't walk home with Iwaizumi.

He purposefully took a different route. Walking across town back and forth so often has made him fairly familiar with the streets and the different ways to get to where he needs to be. No matter how hard he'd tried, he couldn't think of a way to verbally avoid having a conversation, so he went with physically doing so. He knew his best friend would be pissed off at him, but he couldn't take any chances.

The ace apparently got the picture the next day, grumpy as hell attitude aside. There's nothing to discuss. And he doesn't bring it up again.

Evidently, Iwaizumi isn't so used to Tooru being dejected, and can't seem to get the upper hand when that happens. Tooru figures he should use that to his advantage. Talking to the ace becomes difficult to deal with after that, though.

School in general becomes difficult to deal with.

The incident of deep daydreaming doesn't ever happen again, and he figures that's because he's just too paranoid to allow it to. That doesn't mean he's completely free from humiliating fantasies plaguing him during the day and at the worst times. It's usually in classes he finds boring, so he tries to be _very_ invested in all of his courses and what he's studying.

But the thoughts keep on coming, working hard at causing him as much discomfort as physically possible. Volleyball practice is the only time he can really clear his mind, because he's so used to doing so when it has to do with the game. His focus lets him have a few moments of mental clarity.

His trips out across town are made a bit stranger, too.

That's really only because he gets this feeling that Tobio's started to actually think of the two of them as _friends_ , that Tooru coming across town is just the two of them hanging out, or something. And while it isn't too far from the truth, all things considered, it still doesn't exactly explain everything. It's not an attempt at trying to make friends, not really. That doesn't sound right at all.

He thinks during a test, tapping the pen to his chin and looking up, that maybe he's seeing Tobio just because he wants to see him. That there's no other reason, no ulterior motive to be found in any crevice of his mind because no matter how hard he looks it's ultimately a desire that doesn't make sense.

Maybe being friendly to his underclassman is a way of trying to apologize for being rude so often in the past, for letting his jealousy and resentment get the better of him so many times, without actually having to say the words.

 _That_ makes much more sense.

So, he's gotten to be much nicer to Tobio. And that's changed things for the better, he likes to think.

Before, he'd wanted nothing more than to have the younger teen disappear completely. He'd wanted his main source of competition, the reason for which he's been having so many conflicting feelings, to be erased from existence, and he wanted to forget about him entirely. How easy that would make everything, he laments, but that's not possible at all.

Now, though, Tobio has become such a natural part of his life. Like a routine of sorts. Seeing him every time he goes out farther than normal, meeting up with him _by coincidence_ and catching up about this and that, confiding in each other like two who've known each other since middle school _should_ , it's all turned commonplace.

Having a new friendly acquaintance also be the new subject of all of his sexual fantasies is something he's had to just deal with.

Sure, Tooru's been recently masturbating _a lot_ more than he'd consider normal on his own time, but it's especially bad on days he sees Tobio. It's like jacking off has started to be his main pastime. He does it when he's bored, when he's tired, after practice, and probably other times, too. It's not _quite_ gotten to the point where he's set certain times of the day to do so, but he's sure it'll get to that point eventually.

Any time it happens, he has to allow himself some downtime, a period where he can't let anyone else see him, whether it be for the reason of his mental state or his physical state, because he knows now that he can get rather messed up when he touches himself.

They're something like sessions.

He masturbates normally, too, of course. Sometimes, he just needs a quick release and is just too tired to care about semantics or details or even really feeling good or bad. Most of the time, though, he explores his strange fixation on pain. It's something he's had for a while, but it's been suppressed for so long, is coming out now so quickly and furiously, that he feels as if he's hitting puberty late, or something.

Certain particularly sensitive parts become points of interest. His neck is one. He sometimes likes to take a hand to it and squeeze the sides, choke himself until he feels like he's about it pass out, and he finds that he likes that a lot more than he should.

Everything is so vivid whenever he does it. Everything is always so vivid when he causes himself pain. Like it's making him able to see and feel more clearly than when he's not hurting.

And every time, he thinks about Tobio.

Somehow, this obsession with the younger boy, this outlet in which he channels all of his self-hatred, has turned into something a bit easier to understand. His mind's a bit clearer overall when he jacks off to the thought of Tobio (that concept still makes him feel disgusting) and he's finally sorted his feelings out, to an extent. In the end, it's obvious what's going on.

He has a crush on Tobio.

Or, at the very least, he's sexually attracted to Tobio. He figures there's a difference, and that's one thing he hasn't been able to fully figure out, but it's at least a bit easier to understand than it had been before.

It feels good to have a word to describe his feelings, even if it's not absolutely accurate.

Tooru's regarded romance with apathy in the past, and he figures that's why he's lost his last few girlfriends. He doesn't have the heart to tell people no consistently, especially when their eyes plead, but all the new Girl Of The Month feels at the beginning is lust and admiration. But soon enough, she gets bored, he never calls, she gets angry, he doesn't put any effort into the relationship, she leaves him. A repeated cycle.

It's not her fault, never her fault, he can't say it's anyone's fault other than his own that he's just _not_ extremely passionate about anything other than volleyball. He can't afford to be. Romance just never suited him.

Every girlfriend he's ever had has always asked him out, and they've always broken up with him, too.

His disinterest isn't necessarily because he's not attracted to girls. He is. He's attracted to guys, too, objectively speaking. It's just that dating someone always seemed so complicated and like it would take up too much of his time and energy, the time and energy he could be putting into playing volleyball.

Girls always asked him out, though, because he assumes he's conventionally attractive and most girls are by default attracted to sports players. Or something like that. He's not absolutely sure. And he doesn't really want to say no to them because, yeah, they're cute and nice and he likes them, and maybe it's going to work out _this_ time, but it never does. They never understand his passion for the sport once they realize how deep it runs.

And he's not actually thinking he has a _chance_ with Tobio or anything, or that he'd even _want_ to have a chance with Tobio, doesn't even think he'll _ever_ admit aloud to anyone that he's having these feelings at all.

In the end, he doesn't even know if this actually qualifies as a crush, because it started mostly as him associating all of his self-hatred with Tobio, and while that hasn't necessarily _stopped_ happening, it's developed in a different direction. When he thinks of Tobio, when he has fantasies, they're never really _inherently_ sexual. It's more like he gets off to the other boy hurting him, nothing more and nothing less.

He's a masochist. That's the only explanation, he thinks, and because Tobio is the source of a large majority of his mental strain, it'd be obvious that he'd also be the source of his sexual frustration. It just makes _sense_. His feelings are that simple.

They'll pass eventually, he tries to convince himself. He just has to ride this out for as long as his hormonal body reacts to the other boy, for as long as his emotions are so heavily out of balance, for as long as he has to see Tobio and be faced with his own growing inferiority.

They'll pass.

* * *

One night, Tobio calls him.

Sure, he gets calls from people in the volleyball club sometimes, or even just from people in his school for whatever reason they might have, but it's usually not just out of nowhere.

He jumps at the sound of his phone vibrating and raises an eyebrow at the unknown number. Normally, he wouldn't answer, assuming all numbers he doesn't know to likely be spam. But it's from someone in his area, so he thinks that it's maybe a classmate or a team member he just doesn't happen to have in his contacts. As he's running through the list of people in the volleyball club, trying to narrow down who it might be, he swipes at the answer button.

"Hello?" he waits a few seconds, and then his eyes widen at who responds.

On the other end, Tobio clears his throat. "Ah, Oikawa-san, hi."

Tooru has to take a second to let his mind catch up to what's going on. He hadn't really expected that anything like _this_ would happen, or that he'd even have to talk to anyone else that day at all. He'd just planned on going to bed, maybe watching some volleyball games, but nothing that had to do with interacting with another person, let alone Tobio.

He tries to replace his nervousness and confusion with annoyance. "Huh? I didn't expect a call tonight, y'know. I have things to do," he doesn't, really. "How do you even have my number? I didn't give it to you, last time I checked."

 _Yeah_ , he thinks approvingly to himself. That should work in setting the balance of the conversation.

"...Right," Tobio clears his throat and replies. "I got your number from Iwaizumi-san."

 _And why the hell does he have your number_ , is the first thing that vehemently pops into Tooru's head. It's accompanied by extreme jealousy, though it's unfortunately and surprisingly not directed at Tobio.

But the other teen keeps talking. "I'd asked him for help with science homework - chemistry, actually. He said he's not that great at it, but that you are?"

It's a question, but it's also a trap. Because if Tooru says yes, it'll mean he basically _has_ to help. If he says no, he'd be lying, and he'd also have to admit to not being good at something to the absolute _last_ person he'd want to do so to. He hesitates, thinking over his options for a moment. In the end, refusing to help would be rude, and he'd probably hurt his own pride, _and_ he'd likely feel like shit about it afterward.

"Of course I'm good with chemistry," he says haughtily. "It's one of my best subjects - ah, I'm good at all of them, though."

And before he realizes it, they've been talking for around an _hour_.

It goes on much longer than he'd thought it would, and it's not nearly as painful as he thought it'd be.

Tobio asks him about homework, then the conversation somehow quickly turns more casual, the two of them talking back and forth about their days, then how things have been recently, then about volleyball and before they know it, the light from the window goes dim. Tooru finds that he can talk to his underclassman much more easily than to others. They're rather similar in many ways, even if he's _clearly_ much more charismatic and intelligent.

But, well, that's a given.

It's a surprise just how _bad_ at talking Tobio actually is, how bad he is at explaining things or at telling stories. And even though that should be irritating, it isn't, and he finds that it's actually endearing. Might have something to do with how good it makes him feel about his own speaking ability.

What he's not prepared for is Tobio being the one to end the phone call.

Tooru had been practicing in his own head for the last ten or so minutes how he'd be able to say goodbye, but suddenly, his underclassman said something about needing to finish up other homework. And damnit, no matter how hard he'd tried to have the upper hand, it was totally Tobio driving their talk along.

He sets his phone on the table next to his bed, not wanting to get up.

Yeah, there's no doubt about it now. He's seriously _friends_ with Tobio Kageyama.

Or, at the very least, he's _started_ to be friends with Tobio. It's the same either way. He questions for a moment if this had been a way of getting over his own personal issues, because if he's right in his assumption that in the back of his mind, Tobio really _is_ the embodiment of Tooru's own self-hatred, that maybe making friends with such a person would be like abolishing that concept entirely.

In another light, there's also the possibility that doing so would just result in him enjoying his own loathing, in twisting it to where he loves to hate himself, somehow, and maybe that's where he is, now. But he wonders if that wouldn't have the same effect.

He'd figured that he's just a masochist, that he just enjoys to hurt himself, but he'd never really explored why or how that's come to be. Does he _enjoy_ making himself feel bad or look bad? Does he like to be humiliated? To be defeated? To be made a fool of?

There's a voice in the back of his mind screaming _no, that's not right, I don't want that, there's no way I can want anything like that,_ and he's not really sure what he's supposed to feel anymore.

Shaking his head, he runs a hand down to his pants, tracing over the lining with his index finger as if he's trying to decide on whether he should take care of the fact that he's partially hard. It's because of this sort of back-and-forth way of thinking that he's been completely unable to get the kind of relief he wants, and he's not even sure if he deserves it.

The hand slips under his clothes and he lazily strokes himself to the point of being fairly close to the edge.

Then, he pulls away and roughly grabs at surrounding skin. His other hand wraps around his neck and he begins to lose his focus. Eventually, he starts to get lightheaded and closes his eyes as his vision splits apart. This time, he squeezes much harder, sending a sharp pain throughout his jaw and collarbone, and his hips push forward, desperate for some sort of friction.

His fingers instinctively press into his thigh, skin caught under nails, and he's not even touching his dick this time but he's so into the pain that he doesn't want to, not yet.

Saliva drips down his chin and he can feel it on his fingers. Under his palm is his quickening, uneven heartbeat, pushing up ever so slightly. Bruises form on his leg, on his neck, and his head feels both light and heavy at the same time. His grip loosens a bit. If he doesn't stop, he's sure he'll pass out, and he's already started to get so out of it that he can barely even feel the pain properly anymore.

Finally becoming frustrated, he sets himself back to jerking off, pumping himself quickly and dryly, wanting to get it over with.

A dull orgasm only hits him when he starts imagining Tobio's voice, tone and inflections still fresh in his mind from the phone call, the phantom of the deep yet young-sounding melody replaying in his ear. He assumes that he should be feeling guilty about that, or something, but he's a bit too tired for it. He's too tired for anything right now, even cleaning himself up.

Despite that, sleep doesn't come easily.

Nausea finally hits him, though not strong enough for him to have to do anything about it, and he's still wheezing a bit and everything about him feels disgusting and horrible, and not in an even remotely good way. He can't seem to take away any more pleasure from how objectively bad he feels at the moment. It might just be the fatigue, but he can't be sure.

There's an urge to get up and take a shower and it's getting stronger and stronger as he continues to lay there, but he doesn't move. As much as it increases, his exhaustion also grows.

He looks at his phone out of the corner of his eye one last time before his mind succumbs to the night.

Tooru supposes that getting over his feelings for someone he's just become friends with isn't easy, or, in his case, even possible.


End file.
